Its The Quiet Ones
by Belen09
Summary: He didn't like to make a scene, but the situation had been handled so badly that it was intolerable. (SCC series)


It's The Quiet Ones

He didn't like to make a scene, but the situation had been handled so badly that it was intolerable. SCC series.

None, PG-13, AU

Malcolm Reed was making an effort to dissipate the anger that was currently wrapping itself around his intestines. He was so furious that he was feeling the skin around his ears tighten and the ridge of his nose itched. 'I have got to calm down,' he thought, 'We got aid to the man – that's what counts.' And yet, he knew that that wasn't 'it'.

Oh, the screw-up would never get into any report. Wouldn't look good for the SCC, and he did have a strong loyalty for the evening shift, if not for the entire group of ensigns and a couple of the lieutenants that manned the Security Control Center.

Two extra communications – and he had been the one to 'bite the bullet', to 'admit' human weakness. He'd done it to expedite the incident being resolved. It hadn't been his fault. He was handling the incident – a medical emergency – fielding the first call. Except that Hausmann was supposed to have been first on his post. And where was the German?

Not at sitting at his station; no – Hausmann was 'antsy' tonight, and had been 'walking' around the large room past the other twinpak. Been doing it for literally hours.

(In point of fact, the very first thing that made Malcolm Reed angry was that earlier in the evening, they had had another minor problem called in and Hausmann was supposed to be 'primary' on that incident – since he was sitting on 'the life/safety side – and thus was the senior officer. But the man was 'loping' around the room and had missed the call. Malcolm 'fielded' the call and the incident. Very minor problem.

He did apologize to Malcolm. "No problem, Hans," replied the Brit, "I'll write the report.")

So when the phone/communicator rang on the life/safety side, Reed answered it from the security console area, "SCC, Ensign Reed speaking – How may I help you?"

He recognized the man's voice immediately – not one of his favorite med-techs, but you don't get your choice of first responders – "There's a man down, first between-ways, 2DID, BP 132/90," – at this point there would have been more, except that a certain lightly accented German voice spoke – "We've got it!" and broke the connection.

Malcolm turned and looked at Hausmann; he didn't say anything, but if looks could kill . . . Hans did that irritating 'waving arms around' thing, and clearly didn't understand Reed's unspoken ire.

Hausmann was already on the outside phone to Emergency Services i.e. 9-1-1; Reed was using the radio to 'stage' the patrol vehicles to guide both the ambulance and the fire services vehicles from the main entrance to show them where on the Starfleet campus the incident was occurring. Hans was on the phone was on the phone with the 9-1-1 dispatcher, and said to Malcolm, "What's wrong with the victim?"

Malcolm had learned from an early age, that tone of voice could take the place of 'strong' language – people had commented on that before – and he wasn't about to change now. He clearly and cleanly enunciated his words, "I don't know. You dropped the line before the EMT said anything about that." The acid in his voice was dripping, but he was already ringing up the med-tech involved; Heard the German protesting that the 9-1-1 dispatcher had 'dropped the call' because he didn't know what was wrong with the victim. Hausmann was flummoxed, Reed could tell, however the incident still needed to be handled.

"Hello", Malcolm began speaking, pushing friendliness into his voice, "SCC Ensign Reed. We're dispatching emergency services, need to verify what is wrong with the victim?" Used the absolute minimum amount of words and inflection to convey the request. He got the information, and said "Bye." Immediately used the outside phone to ring the 9-1-1 dispatcher and gave them the needed information – Location, age and sex of victim, and observed symptoms. They dispatched emergency services immediately; it would be a couple of minutes before the next flurry of calls from the patrol trucks would come in, announcing the arrival of the emergency vehicles.

Malcolm stared at the screens on his security station. He'd be taking careful notes as to the time of each of the communications between the corresponding parties, and the arrival times. Hausmann was sitting at his post on the life/safety side, looking totally 'put out'. Lieutenant John Hoffman, who was supervisor that night, walked through their twinpak; he'd been at lunch and had listened to Malcolm dispatching the patrol trucks via a radio he kept with him just for that reason; however, he had not heard the phone traffic.

"Things going okay, here?" Hoffman was just checking; he didn't expect to see either of his two officers on this side of the center look so "unsettled" – Normally Hausmann and Reed worked well together – they were the two non-Americans who could 'talk tactics' for hours, and could make 'uninterested people' scream at the minutia involved. He continued, "I'll be on the other side if you need help." Neither one of the two officers said anything.

Emergency services arrived, the victim was helped, transported to hospital, proper authorities were notified – incident closed. Reed had still not said one word to Hausmann, who then incredibly said, "Well, we got that handled!" Malcolm raised his voice just slightly, and quite politely asked 'the lieutenant' to 'please come over to their side – just for a moment.' Hoffman rolled over in a desk chair, a smile on his face. His people were 'on the ball'; "What's up?"

Reed stood up from his post, and walked over to the life/safety station. Hausmann had a good six inches on him; probably sixty pounds of muscle and some fat. 'Probably all in his head,' thought Malcolm. Strode deliberately into the German's space, leaning forward – could feel a core of anger that had to be kept in control – was almost 'dancing' on his feet. "Sir," he began formally, "You will never again break in on a phone call that I am taking, and tell the caller that 'We have it,' and drop the call. Do you understand me?!"

Hausmann had backed up against the desk, a shocked look on his face. He had never seen a coldly furious Malcolm Reed before, and only said, "We handled it." He looked at Hoffmann, who took both men's attitudes into account, saying, "I'm going to listen to the tape." The SCC kept a record of all communications happening on both Twinpaks for legal reasons, but it was unusual that an on-duty superior would listen to an incident immediately.

Hoffman was gone for approximately thirty minutes, then walked quietly back to the area, where the two officers were currently working on reports; Malcolm on the two reports regarding the two incidents that evening – as primary he had to coordinate and write a comprehensive report including the subordinate reports from all the personnel involved. Hans Hausmann as shift leader was tasked to write a shift report detailing the general activities of the twinpak that evening.

Normally Malcolm took pride in his report writing abilities – no matter what else could be said about his parents, they did make sure that he attended good schools, and he knew that he had the ability to write both concisely and cogently. One did not speculate needlessly or include personal opinions in official documents. Usually he would have offered to 'look at' the shift report that Hans wrote for their 'side'; the German had an odd writing style that didn't reflect either his conversational abilities or his general mindset.

Not today. If somebody really cared, they would have to 'work their way' through Hausmann's report. ('Of course,' Malcolm thought bitterly, 'it doesn't really matter . . .' – Lieutenant Commander Henderson couldn't write a coherent note, much less a good report . . .) Reed noticed that John was back and leaning on the life/safety side.

John looked at Hans, uncharacteristically somber, "Malcolm is right. You did break in on the call he was taking, and broke the call off so that he couldn't get the rest of the information. That's not good, Hans."

Soon it was time for the end of the shift, and Malcolm walked out of the center, very glad that the sun was rising and that a robin's egg sky greeted him as he 'unwound' from the last night's activities. People tended not to understand that even when nothing was happening in Security, one had to maintain a level of situational awareness, not generally common to other assignments in Starfleet.

Suddenly he sensed someone walking behind him, and Malcolm turned quickly to see Lieutenant Hoffman approaching. Trying not to sound as tired as he felt, the Englishman said, "I'll see you tomorrow." (Perhaps someone else might have complained about Hausmann, but he saw no need – the situation was 'taken care of', and he'd been on receiving end of enough criticism in his life to 'not want to beat someone about the head' about it.)

But then Hoffman said something that 'gave Malcolm pause'. "It felt good to get angry, didn't it?" At that moment, he knew that John understood a basic part of his personality – there was a core of anger – rage almost – that had to be controlled, always controlled – so that one could maintain 'civility'. And it was very, very hard sometimes. After all, civility was the first part of 'civilization'.


End file.
